


Sewing Together

by privateerwrites



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Sewing, musketeermarch, soft, they have a Group Coping Mechanism okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29778510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/pseuds/privateerwrites
Summary: Musketeer March Day 1- SewingAthos discovers Constance's shop one night on accident, and it becomes a safe haven for all of them.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay & Athos | Comte de la Fère & Porthos du Vallon, Aramis | René d'Herblay & Constance Bonacieux, Aramis | René d'Herblay & d'Artagnan & Athos | Comte de la Fère & Porthos du Vallon, Aramis | René d'Herblay & d'Artagnan & Athos | de la Fère & Constance Bonacieux & Porthos du Vallon, Athos | Comte de la Fère & Constance Bonacieux, Constance Bonacieux & Porthos du Vallon
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188632
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	Sewing Together

**Author's Note:**

> Heya everyone! This is my first fic of Musketeer March! I'm going to try to do all of them, but right now I have.. no cushion and life so!! It'll be an adventure, that's for sure! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

It'd started with Athos, looking for someone to mend his clothes at an absurd hour of the night. He'd managed, somehow, to stumble into the Bonacieux's storefront, barely awake and falling over his feet all the while. Luckily for him, Constance had still been working out front, and so when a half-conscious musketeer stumbled through her door, she hadn't even blinked just said, "How may I help you?"   
  
Athos had explained his situation and after a few moments, handed over the offending piece of clothing. She'd taken it, turned it around, and named a price that she honestly thought he'd talk her down from. He didn't, though, and just went with it, placing the money where directed and sitting down on a chair across from her.   
  
"Is there anything I can help with," he had asked quietly, and when she nodded, he held out his hands. She placed a basket full of trim in his lap, bypassing his hands entirely on the basis that while he was a musketeer, he also looked like he couldn’t stab a practice dummy if it were placed directly in front of his sword.  
  
"Sort these by size and color," she'd said shortly, and that was that. They sat side by side, Athos sorting and Constance sewing. Eventually, he'd finished his task, and when Constance pointed to another basket, wordlessly began sorting that, too.   
  
Together they kept each other company until Constance was finished with Athos' clothes, and he'd thanked her softly and left.   
  
The next week, Athos had returned, this time bringing a man with cheekbones sharp as broken glass and a slightly abashed smile on this face.   
  
"Well, what is it you want, then?"   
  
"Hello, Madame," the man had started.   
  
"Aramis," Athos had said warningly.   
  
"Could you- well, only if you wish, and I'll pay- perhaps fix this doublet for me," Aramis had asked tentatively.   
  
She'd smiled tiredly and taken the doublet from Aramis' arms.   
  
"You two sit there and sort while I work," Constance said, pointing to a pair of chairs with baskets of fabric on them. They'd taken the seats without complaint and sorted while Constance had fixed the seam that Aramis' head injury had made it too hard for him to focus on. They left when her work was finished, Aramis thanking her effusively and Athos offering a gentle and apologetic smile.  
  
The _next_ week, Athos and Aramis had come back, this time with a third man.   
  
"I suppose you want something fixed," she'd said, a little amused.   
  
"Not at all, Madame," the large one had told her. "Just comin' for your company, seein' as Aramis here thinks we are terrible sewing companions."   
  
She blinked, then smiled. "Well, I suppose you can come in, then."   
  
They had done just that, and while Constance and Aramis sewed, Porthos and Athos sorted.   
  
Over time, Constance had taught then to do little things- basting stitches where she needed them, buttons attached the way she liked them done, hems pinned.   
  
That first night after Athos' house burned down and everything is swirling and wrong, they go to Constance's to find solace in the easy rhythm of sorting fabric and sewing simple things.   
  
For a moment, they forget that d'Artagnan lives there, so wrapped up in _help Athos ground Athos don't let Athos get drunk_ that full, logical thought processes haven't really wormed their way into their heads.   
  
It's only when the soft thudding of his boots and the pattern of his breathing causes Porthos' head to snap up in recognition that they remember that they are no longer the only men in the house who respect Constance.   
  
"Hello," he says tiredly, his voice lifting up at the end, making it sound like more of a question and less a statement of greeting.   
  
"Oh," says Athos.   
  
"I don't mean to-," d'Artagnan starts, clearly intending to backpedal up the stairs again, to head back to his room and hide from them in their quiet intimacy.   
  
"Come down," Aramis says, interrupting him. D'Artagnan does as he is bid, and softly pads down the stairs. Porthos hands him a basket of ribbons and says, "Sort it," and so he does.   
  
They sit there, the five of them, quiet and grounded and given a moment to just be, just exist, just live in the moment without a gun to their back or a sword to their throat.   
  
Slowly, it becomes a regular occurrence for all four of them to join Constance when her husband is away and they need some peace.   
  
When Aramis' head is full of ugly thoughts and terrible ideas, Constance hands him a pattern for the clothes of a toddler and a bolt of fabric, and he cuts and sews at her side while Athos teaches d'Artagnan how to attach a button in precisely the manner Constance always does it.   
  
When Porthos' head is brimming with flashes of gunpowder and the memory of an aching stomach without enough in it, Constance gives him an old shirt and a large needle and an embroidery hoop and a drawing and lets him at it while Aramis shows d'Artagnan the fastest way to hem a skirt.   
  
When Athos can't tell them what is swirling in his head save that it is deeply upsetting, Constance quietly passes him a worn-out jacket and some lace and instructions to do as he wishes to it while Porthos demonstrates to d'Artagnan how to fix a hole in one of Constance's dresses so that it doesn't show.   
  
When d'Artagnan is sad and lonely and he misses his father, Athos gives him an old cloth and a whetstone and Aramis' sword while Porthos rubs his back and Constance makes him a handkerchief.   
  
On the rare nights when Constance cannot stand Jacques' treatment anymore, they sit with her in silent comfort, passing her whatever she wants to work on and holding her close in their arms, giving her whatever solace they can with their body heat and embraces.   
  
Those nights, there are four angry musketeers leaving for the garrison, and though they know they cannot do anything, it makes them feel better to imagine him in the Bastille, for any man who can treat the most wonderful person they know that way most certainly deserves it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are really appreciated!
> 
> If tumblr is more your thing, I'm also there at privateerstudies!!


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